


Order of Operations

by bexacaust



Category: MTMTE - Fandom, The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Oral, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Powerbottom!Drift, Riding, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5350760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>::Percy, are you done yet?::<br/>::Very nearly. This is the fifth ping in as many kliks Drift, Is something wrong?::<br/>::Just don’t want you to miss the show~::</p>
            </blockquote>





	Order of Operations

_When the_ **sun** goes down  
all our  **sins**  collide  
When the  **moon**  comes out  
I’m a  **devil**  inside 

_::Percy, are you done yet?::_   
_::Very nearly. This is the fifth ping in as many kliks Drift, Is something wrong?::_   
_::Just don’t want you to miss the show~::_

Perceptor’s normally steady hands faltered. 

_::Show?::  
::Hurry up, Percy~::_

The link went silent. Perceptor blinked his lone optic, the scope beeping quietly as his optic ridges rose nearly to the helmline in intrigue and excitement. A gentle tap against the scope and the sound stopped.

A new sense of urgency in his actions, he began to work just a little faster.

In record time, the laboratory spic-and-span and lights off; Perceptor locked the door behind him with a quick tap of his code on the keypad and strode down the hall. It was empty, dim and dark with most of the crew gone to their own suites to wind down and recharge for the evening. His hands were shaking again as he walked up to his own door, the hiss of it sliding open not masking the soft sigh that echoed out.

His steps were heavy as lead as he walked in, door hissing shut behind him. The sound of another key being tapped in, and a the click of locks.

“Drift?”, Perceptor called out softly, his steps heavy and silent as he continued further in.

His vents stuttered at the figure lounging like a panther on the berth he shared with the swordsmech.

A grin, showing needle-sharp fangs seemed almost out of place with the dimmed and half open optics as Drift met Perceptor’s stunned gaze.

“Right on time, Percy.”

Perceptor swallowed hard, tracing Drift’s figure with his line of sight; leaning back on the berth’s headboard with the firm pillows piled behind him like lounging royalty, down to a smooth chestplate with the slightest dusting of condensation from a rising internal temperature.. down further to a taught waist and the beginnings of the flare of hips that nearly embodied sin.

Down further to two digits pushed in to the last knuckle and the sheen of fluid.

Perceptor kept himself online with sheer force of will, wincing when he realized he had nearly bit through his own lip-plate.

He moved forward in a daze, normally easily collected and sure in the berth but this was… unexpected.

On knee on the berth, and Drift’s grin turned to a pouted frown, and he removed those digits and raised one leg. His pede against Perceptor’s unadorned shoulder stopped the forward movement, and Perceptor swallowed the whine that built in his vocalizer.

“You’ve been  _neglecting me_ , Perce.”, crooned Drift. His servos crept back to his valve, and he sighed as he stroked himself with a single digit, “It’s awful  _mean_  of you to do that.”

“I-I’m sorry…”, breathed Perceptor, trying once again to push against Drift’s pede, stopped by the strength of the leg.

“Are you?”, cooed Drift, moaning softly as he slipped two servos back into himself. He crooked them, rolled his hips, and once again met Perceptor’s gaze.

“Y-Yes, of course, let me make it.. make it up to you.”

Drift arched an optic ridge, “Oh? Is that what you want?”, he purred, ankle flexing and his pede putting downward pressure against Perceptor’s shoulder. The sniper leaned, one hand splayed against the surface of the berth and forcing his line of sight to Drift’s valve. Drift laughed, low and smooth and wicked, at the flicker of desperation over Perceptor’s expression.

“Maybe I want to remind you what you’ve been ignoring, Percy.”, the samurai said smoothly, “I did promise a **show**.”

The servos that had been shallowly slipping in and out of the white mech’s body pushed in deep, making lubricant drip out like ambrosia and Perceptor couldn’t catch himself before he licked his lips.

“Maybe I could make you watch me, hm?”, continued Drift in a breathy voice, “Would you like that? Scientists _love_  to observe, don’t they?”

A groan from Perceptor.

“I could bind your wrists, make you kneel and watch me do  _ **everything**_  you want to do.”

He pushed Perceptor farther down with more pressure on the sniper’s shoulder until he was propped on his elbows and panting lightly; shaky and sharp ventilations and the whirr of internal fans the underscore for Drift’s purred and lascivious promises.

“Would you like that, Perceptor?”, whispered the ex-Con, letting his head tilt back as he moaned from sword-calloused fingers working deep inside himself. His pede slipped from Perceptor’s shoulder, and the sniper all but crawled forward when he felt Drift’s leg rest on his too-warm frame.

“Stop right there, lover.”

Perceptor froze, glancing up at Drift’s smile. He jolted when he felt two slick servos against his lipplates.

“Suck.”

The sniper obeyed. It wasn’t very often such a thing happened between them but when it did… Perceptor lost all grasp on his “calmness” and his “collected temperament”. How could he not.

His optics dimmed as Drift’s fingers slipped into his mouth; as a glossa wove around and over them and he sucked the too-sweet taste from the digits like a dying man in the desert.

He groaned again when those servos left his mouth, panting openly now when Drift gripped his chin and forced him to meet the swordsmech’s smirk and heated optics.

“Maybe another time. For now? Let’s see that apology.”

Perceptor shuddered when Drift’s other hand caressed his helm, then both palms against his helm and a gentle push down. Perceptor’s own twitching hands gripped Drift’s hips and he buried himself into slick heat, moaning desperately as a broad sweep of his glossa made Drift’s backstrut rise into a perfect arch.

Those hips twitched, little aborted rolls and bucks as Drift airily moaned into the room. Perceptor grunted when he felt both of Drift’s leg over his shoulders now, and the sniper’s free hand moved to grip one thick thigh. His glossa moved from dipping deep into the samurai to lapping at the node just above the entrance; making Drift’s voice jump a few notes in pitch. Percy growled, lipplates closing around the center of sensation and sucking hard.

Drift’s hips bucked hard, and Perceptor moved with him, continuing to suckle and lash at the knot of feeling with his tongue; occasionally moving back down to feel Drift’s body grip his glossa tightly in the chase for completion.

“O-Oh… Oh Perce..”, whined the swordsmech, servos now curled in the berthcovers as he writhed and arched like a mech possessed.

Perceptor pressed closer, disregarding the mess he knew was dripping over his faceplate in favor of pulling more of those sounds from his delightfully curvy lover.

When Drift’s body arched again, a soft keen shaking from a vocalizer and laced with static, Perceptor drank it in like the wine of Olympus, tongue and lips continuing to tease and drag soft sounds from Drift until the samurai gently pushed his face away so he could give a shaky vent.

Perceptor licked the mess from his face, shaky servos wiping away what his glossa couldn’t reach.

Drift’s expression was wicked and still predatory as he kissed Perceptor, making the sniper shudder from the sensation of sharp fangs tugging at his lower lip.

“Mmn. Apology accepted.”

Perceptor surged forward, catching Drift in another kiss laced in desperate desire. Some part of him was shocked at his own needy behavior, but the majority of his internal processes demanded more of the swordsmech; more of his taste, his touch, the airy and seductive sounds that could flutter from his vocalizer.

Perceptor made a surprised noise when he was suddenly on his back, Drift straddling him easily.

The click of a panel and Perceptor choked on air at the throb from his spike that seemed to rattle his very plating.

Drift grinned like a victorious incubus, rising up on his knees and holding himself just above Perceptor. He watched the slack-jawed sniper follow the path of one dark hand as it moved over white plating to a swollen and sticky valve; parting the lips slightly as Drift began to slowly sink down.

Perceptor’s optic began to roll back and a sharply hissed command made him focus.

“Ah, ah!  _You will **watch**._ ”

Drift’s voice had slipped lower, that ‘Con growl beginning to overpower the forced saccharine tones. Perceptor whined softly as Drift sank down on his spike; as the swordsmech’s optics offlined and shuttered and his frame shivered. 

Their bodies met, and the valve clenched around Perceptor, making him gasp and one leg twitch. Drift rolled his hips, grinning when he felt the normally dominating sniper’s hands grip heavy hips like a lifeline.

A slow rise, and a slow fall, and Perceptor shuddered hard. Drift splayed his servos against Perceptor’s chestplate and crooned, “Not til I do. You don;t overload until I do, and only if I give you permission. Do you understand?”

Perceptor moaned hoarsely.

“It’s almost like you enjoy a little  _role reversal_ , Percy.”, laughed Drift, slowly riding the shaking sniper below him, “Maybe I should do this more often  ** _hm_**?”

The ex-Con sank down yet again, gyrating his hips before he rose once more. Perceptor choked on his own words, stroking over seams in Drift’s plating and gripping hard enough to nearly dent the other mech’s frame.

Drift increased his pace, twisting his hips with every downwards slide over Perceptor’s spike. He laughed, vicious and hungry and lovingly cruel as Perceptor’s pelvis bucked into the motions and chased his own climax. Coolant beaded in the corner of Perceptor’s optics as a hoarse whispered mantra of “Please” dripped from the sniper’s lips with every rise and fall of Drift’s frame.

“Are you close, Perceptor?”, crooned the ex-Con, valve clenching again and making the one-time Wrecker cry out in lust, “Do you want to overload? Fill me right to brim?”

“Primus, Drift, please,  _please_  I-I need…”

“You sound good, begging. Once more, with  **feeling**.”

Drift’s grin was near demonic, fangs glinting in the suite’s dim light as his pace went from teasing to near punishing. Perceptor snarled the swordsmech’s name, pushing himself into a sitting position and wrapping an arm around his lover’s trim waist. Drift gasped when he felt Perceptor nuzzle into his neck, biting hard on a thick energon line then soothing the sting with a languid lick.

Drift felt Perceptor’s free hand grip a white shoulder, and pull him down into a hard upward thrust. Drift choked on Perceptor’s name, all-but wrapping himself around the sniper who pounded viciously into him.

Perceptor’s lone optic was dim and shuttered, his mind focused on one thing: making Drift howl in orgasm and reaching his own.

“OhfragohprimusPercyharderhardhardery-yES-”

Drift’s helm tilted back as he moaned and gasped wantonly, scratching down over Perceptor’s shoulders and back and feeling paint curl away and leave gouges in the smooth finish.

Perceptor gasped, moving to turn them both so that Drift was sprawled under him, one leg around the sniper’s waist as his frame shuddered from each thrust.

Perceptor kissed him furiously, feeling Drift arch under him before breaking away to cry out as Perceptor hit something deep in his valve.

“ThereagainpleaseohPercy-”

The wrecker snarled, adjusting the angle of his hips before burying his face into Drift’s neck again and panting like a beast in heat. Drift’s voice cracked, static lacing through it louder and louder and Perceptor moaned desperately as the coil of tension in his groin grew tighter and tighter.

“D-Drift, Drift, love, please- pl-ease let me-”

Drift moaned a lewd laugh before growling into Perceptor’s ear, “ _ **Earn it.**_ ”

Perceptor vented harshly, hands moving to grab behind Drift’s knees and haul his legs up; bending the mech nearly in half and opening him wide and every thrust buried Perceptor’s spike to hilt in the slick valve. Drift shrieked, howled Perceptor’s name into the room as his valve clenched like a vise every time Perceptor’s hip surged forward.

Drift’s voice broke, hard, static wrapped around another howl of Perceptor’s designation.

“D-Drift  **PLEASE**!”

And in a choked whisper as the rhythmic sensation of Drift’s valve became erratic, “O-Overload.”

Perceptor’s optic offlined, as completion slammed into him like a freight train, as Drift’s staticky shriek of orgasm rang in his audials and as white plating dented finally from the Wrecker’s twitching grip.

Perceptor’s hips slammed against Drift once, twice before he shuddered, hoarsely babbling praise and grateful words to the ex-Con beneath him on the berth as Drift shivered and moaned from the feeling of Perceptor filling him as promised.

Perceptor’s hands released Drift’s legs to wrap around the swordsmech and hold him close as Perceptor dragged in shaky intake of air.

Drift chuckled, purring by his lover’s audial, “Maybe I should do this more often.”

Perceptor tried to answer, but all that came out was a spit of static and he sighed, instead nodding his sated agreement. Drift shifted his shoulders, and Perceptor moved enough to lazily kiss the white mech as he slid free of a twitching valve.

Drift’s optics flickered, staying dim as he rolled his hips. One of his hands guided Perceptor’s servos to press them against the sticky mess leaking slowly from the curvaceous mech’s body, and Perceptor gave a harsh vent.

“I could get used to this.”, growled Drift in those molasses tones.

Perceptor shuddered and moaned into Drift’s neck.


End file.
